


Dad hit Sam

by AmmoLovesJyron



Series: Soz Sam... [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Gen, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/ no comfort, It doesn't go down well, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, John hits Sam, John is not a good dad, Protective Dean Winchester, Throwing punches, sorry Sam, sorry dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 11:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17765726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmmoLovesJyron/pseuds/AmmoLovesJyron
Summary: The two times John hit Sam and basically got away with it, and the one time he hit Sam and Dean stepped in.





	Dad hit Sam

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE:  
> This is NOT what is depicted in Supernatural; while I get the idea John wasn't always the best dad it's clear he does love his boys, and would never lay a finger on them. Let's not go batshit on the hating, heh? It's a fic, fam.  
> OH, also;  
> The start of a new shortfic is noticed by ages in BOLD. Keep that in mind.

**Dean: 14**

**Sam: 10**

John hit _Sam_.

John _hit_ Sam.

 _Dad hit Sam_.

 

Sam cowered, eyes wide in fear as a single tear fell. Dean stood in the doorway of the cheap motel, dropping Sam’s bag he’d been carrying in. John grabbed Sam roughly on the arm in the process of making him stand, when Dean called out.

“ _Let go of him_!”

When John faced his eldest son his eyes were red rimmed. The room stank of alcohol, and Dean’s eyes scanned the room before finding various empty bottles of whiskey on the nightstand. They then went to Sam, who was dead silent. Tears still fell, but he was quiet while John grasped his shirt tightly.

“I said let go of him, dad. He’s just a kid-“

“-he’s ten, Dean! At ten you killed a werewolf but all he does is read and do schoolwork!”

John’s face was bright red with anger, and when Sam whimpered he shook him a little.

“Never have I seen someone cry as much as your brother does, Dean.”

He threw Sam to the ground, taking the Impala’s keys with him on the way out. The door slammed shut and Sam jumped, before looking at the floor. Dean sighed, approaching Sam with caution.

“C’mere Sammy.”

 

**Dean: 22**

**Sam: 18**

Dean swung open the motel door, Sam sitting on one of the beds with an envelope in his hand. Dean hummed to greet him, going to his bag to get something. He wasn’t expecting his placid, calm (possibly traumatised, let’s be honest) brother to jump up and yell, scaring Dean who spun with his gun’s safety off. When he realised it was Sam the safety went back on and he put the weapon away, heaving a sigh.

“What the hell man? You scared the shit out of me, could have shot you.”

“Dean, look. It came.”

Sam was practically bursting at the seams with excitement, so Dean took the letter.

“ _As your aptitude score suggested… we would like to welcome you to Stanford Law on a full scholarship_ -“

Dean stopped abruptly, looking up to grab his brother in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you Sammy, congrats man.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

Sam blushed- he didn’t get that much from anyone; when Dean said he was proud he meant it. Dean realised he hadn’t seen their dad yet, and glanced around the room.

“Does dad know yet?”

Sam’s smile fell and his eyes became a little darker- his entire moose-giraffe body was smaller too; that always happened at the mention of John.

“You haven’t told dad yet? Sam, he- he’s not gonna be happy-“

“-I never told him about applying, he always calls me a pansy for trying at school. This is my chance to get away from this life, Dean. It doesn’t suit me and you know that.”

“He won’t let you go, man-“

“-Dean, please. I- I need this.”

Sam’s puppy dog eyes always worked on his older brother- he was very aware of that- and this time was no different as Dean sighed, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Fine. But you gotta tell him before you leave, okay? You can’t just disappear.”

“I know Dean. Give me time, okay?”

 

Almost a week passed after the acceptance letter came before John found out. They were in another cheap motel, Dean had built the blanket barricade in the second double bed since Sam always tried to be close to him, and they’d sat down to a nutritional dinner of food from the diner down the road. Sam was eating a salad that honestly looked worse than the chicken burgers Dean and John were chowing down, Sam pushing his salad away. John raised an eyebrow, and Sam shook his head.

“Not hungry, I had something to eat earlier while you guys were scoping out the place.”

John shrugged, getting up from the table.

“Prob’ly needs salt, Sam. You don’t get enough salt.”

He took Sam’s plate, going to the kitchenette, ready to fix the salad with his remedy to everything- demons, bad salad? Salt it. You name it John has salted it. Excuse the pun.

Dean and Sam chatted quietly for a moment before something shattered in the kitchenette. Neither brother looked at each other as they shot up to investigate, Dean taking the knife from under his pillow just in case.

 

Sam got there first, with his long legs. When Dean came in only a split second later John had a piece of paper in his hand, the hand loose as he turned and lifted Sam up by the shoulders of his shirt, pinning him to the wall. Sam winced, as John spoke in a dangerously low tone.

“You’re leaving, are you? Weren’t going to tell me at all?”

Sam set his jaw and Dean internally facepalmed- dad and Sam had fought countless times before, but whenever Sam got determined or passionate about something it ended a little more brutally. Brutally being a nice way to put it.

“Dad, I got a full scholarship. This is something I’ve wanted for so long, and I’ve finally got a chance-“

“-so that’s it? You’ve given up on finding this yellow eyed beast that killed your mother? She died trying to take care of you, she sacrificed herself and this is what you do to repay her-“

“-this is what mom would have wanted, dad! Mom would have wanted to do something with my life, rather than motel-hopping trying to get a shitty version of justice for something that happened over twenty years ago!”

Sam was released and for a second Dean relaxed, thinking maybe Sam had a point. For once, maybe Sam had handled the beast correctly, no fisty-cuffs.

He was so wrong.

John threw the first punch, landing squarely on Sam’s built jaw. Sam was tossed to the floor like a ragdoll despite his height, and when he recovered enough to stand John put his heavy boot on his stomach, spitting on the floor beside him.

“A son of mine would never betray his mother for his own wishes.”

Then he released his foot, going over to the shared wardrobe. Sam frowned, Dean watching with wide eyes. He knew exactly what was going to happen, but it appeared Sam didn’t.

“Dad, what-“

“- if you start walking now, you’ll be there in time for first semester hopefully. Only if you walk fast, though.”

Sam’s eyes widened too now, Dean stepping in front of his (not so little anymore) brother to protect him in case another punch was thrown. It was well known between the three that Sam had a smart mouth, while John had a smart fist.

“Dad, c’mon it’s summer, he’ll probably start in September-“

“-you too, Dean? God, wasn’t expecting that from the one child I can rely on.”

He grabbed Dean’s duffle too, beginning to pack it with Dean’s clothes.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, and John turned to him with a cold look in his eyes.

“You’re gonna go and be a pansy law student like your brother, right? Sit in a lecture theatre all day, take exams, maybe touch a girl once before you graduate-“

“-that’s enough! If it means you stop being so abusive toward Sam then yeah, I’d love to.”

“Dean, no. You can’t, you need to stay.”

Sam tugged on Dean’s jeans from where he was still sitting on the ground, Dean frowning at him.

“Don’t you start too-“

“-you love this life, Dean. You can eat cheeseburgers every day and never get sick of them; you can eat dodgy food from a dingy diner and not spend the night puking it up. You don’t get panic attacks every time you have to kill something. Dean this is in you; but it’s not in me.”

Sam stood then, nudging his head in the direction of their father who had his back turned.

“Besides; someone needs to watch that bastard, make sure he doesn’t get his ass killed before I can sue him for credit card fraud.”

Dean turned to look at his brothers and it hit him just how tall Sam was; how grown up he was. His eyes were dark with maturity, his jawline had filled out and then become a weapon of mass destruction, and he’d (finally, heh) lost his v-card the last week when Dean had taken him out for a drink underage. Sam was as much an adult as Dean and John were, and Dean sighed. He held Sam by the back of his neck, pulling him in for a hug.

“C’mere man.”

Sam buried his head in Dean’s hair, Dean clutching on to his brother. When he realised it might be a while before he could see his brother again he tightened, trying to remember everything. God, Sam was going to do so well in law school. Dean leaned to whisper in his ear, gesturing toward his own duffle.

“There’s cash in there. I don’t care what dad says; if you need me, you call me okay? Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

When Sam let go, Dean watched him take his bag, not even make eye contact with their father, and leave the motel. The second the door closed John swore loudly, going into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him loudly and Dean felt caught in the middle. He hoped he’d hear from Sam soon.

 

Sam never called. Dean never answered.

 

**Dean: 27**

**Sam: 23**

At first, finding John alive and relatively unharmed had felt like a dream come true to both Sam and Dean. They were overjoyed, but of course all good things must come to an end.

 

It started in the Impala; Sam had a headache and had been puking throughout the night, so he was cranky and needed more sleep. John was in the front seat so Sam could stretch out in the back, cowering by the sick bucket. John seemed convinced Sam wasn’t that sick (note: he’d slept through all of Sam’s puking, Dean had heard every single time) and sighed in irritation at his son.

“If you’re this sick Sam you might as well have stayed in the motel. God knows Dean can kill this thing better.”

Sam looked guilty, and he nodded.

“I’m good, dad. I can do this.”

 

A gun rang out in the background and Dean rushed forward, collecting Sam in his arms.

“C’mon man, let’s get outta here.”

Sam groaned, head buried into Dean’s shoulder. He hiccupped, but kept his eyes closed as he allowed Dean to drag him out of the abandoned building they’d been killing a poltergeist in. Once they were outside John joined them, Sam more awake as he leaned heavily on a tree. Dean kept rubbing his back as Sam rode waves of nausea, but John just glared at the pair.

“Sam I thought you said you were okay.”

“Dad, not now,” Dean warned, but Sam brushed off his hand, standing to his full height nearly a whole foot taller than John. John didn’t seem threatened, and Sam wiped his mouth.

“You know if you actually cared about us, you’d know I was up all night puking my guts out into that shitty motel toilet. If you actually cared you’d notice I have a fever, maybe you’d even check it for me. Hell, maybe even just once you’d take notice of someone other than yourself-“

That was all John needed to hear. He shoved Sam’s shoulder roughly, going to lean on the Impala. Dean watched cautiously, ready to break up the fight if he needed to. Sam staggered but regained, tears streaming down his face as he pushed at his dad’s back.

“You love mom so much but why can’t you love us, huh? Why can’t you love _me_?”

John spun and punched Sam right in the cheekbone, Sam collapsing immediately. Dean grabbed him under his arms, resting him against that tree. John sighed, running a hand through his hair while Dean leapt forward, taking a handful of his dad’s shirt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’? That’s my brother you’re hurtin’ there, your son, remember? The one you saved from the house fire when mom died? The one whose bed you cried over when his appendix burst and he needed emergency surgery? That same son who came after you when I showed up asking for help? He never had to do that; he could have said no but he loves you, and this is how you repay him?”

Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw Sam puke down his front and winced; deal with that later. Meanwhile, John was staring at Dean’s fist holding his shirt.

“Dean, everything I do is for you and your brother! I left the Marines, I started hunting, I gave up my wife-“

“ _bullshit_!” Dean roared. He tossed John like a sack of spuds, going over to help Sam who was crying- big, heaving sobs that Dean hadn’t seen in years. As he managed to get Sam standing, he turned to John.

“I hope you know that when you hit someone the physical bruising doesn’t last long but the emotional bruising will be there forever.”

“I went to anger management classes. Started to get my shit together.”

John’s confession made Sam hold Dean’s shoulder, Dean glaring at his dad.

“Well make sure you get a refund because they were no help whatsoever.”

“I lied to you, Dean. I told you I was going hunting when I was actually getting real help and treatment for the disorder I never knew about. I couldn’t control these rage attacks, these moments of feeling high as a kite for so long but now I can-“

“- _you just punched Sammy_!”

“I know, and Dean I know it looks bad but the therapist I went to says I’m doing so much better, she says it’s all up in here. She- she said by reconnecting with you two, I was getting better.”

“Well you just took at least ten steps in the wrong direction for a relationship with us.”

“Dean wait.”

Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder, making him stop. Sam staggered to his dad, regarding him with caution.

“Then why did you just hit me, huh dad? What’s going on _up there_?”

“Sam you get your anxiety from me, but instead of having panic attacks like you do, I get rage attacks. Ones where I don’t feel in control, where I punch the first thing I see and god, I’m so sorry. I keep hurting you, and I wish you knew how sorry I was for all those years.”

Sam straightened, his eyes becoming distant toward his dad.

“Whatever.”


End file.
